Maybe Fate
by Mary Sue Murderer
Summary: Desmond returns to the hatch one night while Jack is on button duty. Jack tries to use logic. Desmond is pretty dern crazy. Awkwardness ensues, at least on Jack's part. Is Desmond fated to continue running into Jack? Slashiness in later chapters.


Jack started awake, sitting straight up in the computer chair. It took him a few moments before he remembered where he was. Desk, computer, weird blinking machinery... right. The hatch. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to wake himself up. If it hadn't been for the alarm, he could have missed his cue to enter the numbers and... 

Jack glanced at the clock. He still had ten more minutes.

_Wait, that wasn't the alarm..._

In the distance he heard a metallic clanging sound. Someone at the other door it sounded like. Jack made his way through the damp concrete passageway to the second door, turning the release lock to open it. Whoever it was, they better get on with it quick - as much as Jack hated thinking about it, he was still determined to enter the code in time.

The door swung open and there, disheveled, bleeding and covered with mud, stood Desmond. He was hunched over, hands on his knees, breathing as if he'd just run across the entire island. The bag he'd taken with him the first time wasn't anywhere in sight. When Desmond finally noticed Jack, he looked up and gave him a grin.

"Fancy seeing you again, brother. Must be fate."

Jack stood there stunned, holding the door as he stared down at the man who had been weaving in and out of his life as of late in a frustratingly unexplainable manner.

"Don't suppose I can come in now, can I?"

"O-oh, yes, of course..." Jack stepped back to let Desmond in, looking off into space as he stumbled away from the door. The confusion he'd felt the first time he'd recognized Desmond in the hatch flowed back into him, leaving him feeling quite lost. Desmond, for his part, seemed to take it all in stride as he limped into the bunker and headed back towards his closet. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt before busying himself with stripping off his dirty Dharma coveralls.

Jack was thankful that Desmond was facing away from him as he caught himself staring again. He wasn't sure if it was Desmond he was really staring at, or the now exposed muscles in the man's back. He certainly seemed to have been making good use of the exercise equipment they'd found in the bunker. Something uncomfortable twisted in Jack's gut as he watched, making him feel awkward and nervous. He tore his eyes away from the other man to stare at the floor.

_Bip. Bip. Bip. Bip._

"You plan on getting that, brother?"

Jack looked up, confused for a moment before he recognized the sound of the alarm. "Oh, right. I'll just... be right back."

Desmond chuckled, bending over to pull up his baggy sweatpants. "I guess that answers one of my questions then, anyways."

Barely hearing Desmond, Jack made his way back to the control center, slipping back into the rolling chair. He didn't need to check the paper anymore, just entered the numbers into the computer and hit execute. The clock fluttered with moving numbers, landing back at 108:00 as it always did. With a small sigh, Jack slumped back in the chair. Safe again, it seemed.

"So you fixed it then, did you?"

Jack turned toward the doorway where Desmond had taken to leaning, now wearing a clean shirt and his sweatpants. It made the dirt and blood smeared across his face and arms all the more noticeable. Blood...

"Yes, Sayid fixed it... are you hurt?"

Desmond blinked, reaching up to touch his scalp gingerly before looking at his own hand. He seemed almost surprised to see the blood on his fingers. "Well, seems I might be. Good thing I'm back then, eh?"

Desmond slipped away from the doorway. Jack heard the metal cabinet doors squeak open, prompting him to follow Desmond. He came up behind him just in time to see him inject himself with the odd yellow-ish liquid they'd found a few weeks earlier. He hadn't been able to identify the substance himself, but apparently Desmond knew what it was. Or at least he thought he did...

"What _is_ that, anyways?"

"Oh, just a little something to keep my body at it's best, brother."

Concern creased Jack's face. "So what, they're like steroids?"

Desmond shrugged, removing the needle tip and tossing it into a plastic container in the cabinet. "Couldn't tell you. Kelvin never exactly explained it to me himself, but I know that when I take this stuff, it keeps me more alert and I don't need so much sleep. In fact, that's part of why I came back. Ran out of the supply I'd taken with me."

Jack sighed loudly in frustration. None of this was making any sense... who in his right mind would inject himself with something he knew nothing about? "Right, well... why don't you have a seat over here and I'll take a look at those cuts. How did you get them? Were you attacked?"

Desmond allowed Jack to guide him over to one of the chairs and sit him down. Jack pushed aside Desmond's hair to have a look at the large cut starting at his forehead and extending into his scalp. It was long, but not deep. There were also several smaller cuts on Desmond's arms, but it looked to Jack like they were only caused from running through the underbrush.

"Well, the bit on my head's a tad embarrassing, brother. My first night out I woke up after a hundred and eight minutes to press the button, and I stumbled over some rocks and fell. I still wake up every night, but I'm getting better. Shows you what three years of programing can do though, doesn't it?"

"Yes, very interesting... hold on." Jack retrieved his bag from the table by the beds, rifling through it until he found some gauze (which he'd actually taken from the hatch's medical kit) and a small bottle of alcohol from the plane. "This might sting a little."

"Don't you worry, brother! I'm sure I can take it." He smiled again, and Jack couldn't help but smile in return. He seemed more now like the man he'd met three years ago rather than the raving lunatic they'd all found the first time they'd entered the hatch. The memories it sparked in Jack's mind were bittersweet, but not unpleasant. It amazed him that this man could even smile that way after having been on his own in the jungle for almost two weeks by himself. When Jack dabbed at Desmond's wounds with the alcohol-covered gauze, he only flinched a bit, drawing in a quick breath.

"It's lucky for your friends that you were on that plane, wasn't it? I'm gathering you didn't quite have the creature comforts I did when you crashed. They probably needed you quite a bit, eh?"

"Well... I did my best."

"So modest. This place... I'm sure you've saved lives. Then again, I suppose you're used to that by now, yeah?"

Jack crumpled up the used gauze, putting it to one side on the table. "I can't... I can't save everyone." _Shannon... Boone... the air marshal... the girl swimming..._

"But you saved some, didn't you? I can tell. Then again, you never hit me as the 'glass-is-half-full' type." Desmond reached out and placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Chin up then, brother! I'm sure they're all thankful for you. I know I am!"

Jack faltered. Taking compliments or praise wasn't something he was used to doing. It left him feeling awkward. "I... you just had a few cuts. You'd probably be fine without my help."

"I didn't mean that, though thanks as well just the same. I meant the way you freed me from all this... though I'm sorry you've gotten yourself stuck here in my place."

"No, that... that was just a mistake. We didn't know you were down here. We didn't know about any of this."

"Well then, I'd call that a lucky bit of fate then, yeah brother?" Desmond stood up, removing his hand from Jack's shoulder and offering it to him to help pull him up from where he'd been kneeling. Jack took the hand, still feeling unsettled, as Desmond easily hauled him to his feet. "Mind if I crash for a bit? I gather it will take a bit for the medicine to hit my system again after I've missed my last few injections."

Jack was beyond trying to logic anything out at this point. He had a little over an hour until he had to press that goddamn illogical button again, and the crazy hatch man was babbling about strange drugs and fate. It was too much. "Sure, of course... we washed your sheets for you..."

Desmond grinned widely and pulled Jack towards him, nearly making Jack cry out in surprise. He hugged him warmly, strong arms encircling Jack's body. "That was right sweet of you, brother! Thank you." Releasing him, Desmond went over to his crumbled coverall suit, reaching into one of the pockets to pull a small brown object out - a stuffed rabbit. Again, Jack was beyond questioning it at this point and could only watch as Desmond took the rabbit and climbed into the top bunch of the bed. It was almost literally a second later that he seemed to be asleep, curled up under the faded orange sheets. Confused beyond comprehension, Jack shook his head and went to the bookshelf to pick out a book to read. One more shift, and then Locke would take over for him.


End file.
